


spiran caf and something sweeter

by wetblanketpioneer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kinda?, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26767864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetblanketpioneer/pseuds/wetblanketpioneer
Summary: According to Kanan Jarrus, the Ghost Grind was probably the best coffee shop in the Outer Rim. Then again, part of that could be chalked up to the lovely Twi'lek behind the counter.~~~~~~A coffee shop romance for the dreamers and the caffeination-inclined.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 20
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

One year. 

Kanan Jarrus had been regularly drinking at the Ghost Grind for one whole year. It was undoubtedly his longest relationship to date, and he wasn’t even putting out. 

He had first started going at the recommendation of Okadiah, Kanan’s boss at the bar. “Best dark roast in the Outer Rim,” he had said. Kanan had always told himself that it was just a great place to study. Even after finishing an Associate degree, he still found himself coming back to the cafe. 

He usually came in just as the shop opened. It was just around the time that he got back from closing up The Asteroid Belt. Kanan had always found it funny that the seedy bar was near an old airport terminal, but was named like it was some sort of hangout for astronauts. It was almost exclusively populated by drunkards working at the local thorilide facility, but Kanan appreciated the older man’s optimism. Okadiah was eccentric, and the bar’s name certainly proved that. He didn’t ask any questions, though, which was incredibly convenient for a guy like Kanan. 

The same could be said for the Twi’lek behind the Ghost’s counter. She was something else, for sure. 

Hera Syndulla was an excellent conversationalist when she wanted to be, and didn’t push him towards spilling his secrets. She erred on just this side of mysterious and respected his own privacy. She was wildly different than the other girls he had previously hung around. Warm voice. Kind. Utterly selfless. It was nice. It didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes, either. She wasn’t just gorgeous; she was goddamn radiant. 

“Happy one year,” Kanan said, making sure that this voice was as smooth as possible as he approached the Ghost’s overhang, where Hera was struggling to unlock the front door. 

She dropped her abnormally neat hands in frustration. “You’re gonna have to do it.” She stepped back to let him squat down and try to turn the jammed key. 

“What do you do on the days I’m not here?”

“I sit on the curb and cry until a big strong man comes along to help me,” she said dryly, arms crossed across her chest. She furrowed her tattooed green brows. She was clearly unamused. 

“The lock’s crap, you know.” The key started to turn a little, but just couldn’t--  _ there _ . The deadbolt switched back, allowing him to swing the door wide open. 

“Believe me, Kanan. I know.”

“Just get a new one,” he suggested, holding the door open for Hera to pass through.

She snorted and turned on the lights. The low-watt bulbs actually stood out in the darkness before Lothal’s skies began to light up for the day. “You know it’s not that easy. Besides, I can fix it. I need to pay my bills for the month.” She shrugged off her orange jacket. It had surely seen better days, but who was he to judge? His clothes had more repaired holes than the number of coffees he’d had from the Ghost. 

Kanan grinned as he stretched out onto the dilapidated sofa near the counter. “You also need a new lock.” 

“As I said, I can fix it.” Hera toggled some switches, booting the machines to life. They were definitely older models, but she kept them immaculately cleaned and running. “Can you keep an eye out for the delivery truck?” she asked absentmindedly. “The baker should be around by now.”

She flitted around behind the counter, wiping down some things and turning on others. Kanan couldn’t help but notice the speed of her movements, She always worked quickly in the morning, but this was different. Her lekku were stiffer, and she was moving far more mechanically than normal. It was almost as if someone had rewired her mind to work like a high-speed computer processor. 

“Hera?” he asked, as he walked up to the espresso machine, where she was rinsing out the drip tray. 

She stopped, one lek jabbing into her back. Her guard was up; arms crossed, brow raised. As she looked up at him, her alert eyes seemed to soften. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not the point and you know it. You’re tense.”

There were five things about Kanan Jarrus that Hera knew for a fact. 

Number one: Kanan had never stayed in the same town for longer than eight months. His time in Lothal, of course, was the lone exception. He had come to finish a degree at the local junior college. Hera was surprised that he stayed after graduation. 

Number two: he was a bartender at some bar in Gorse. The way he had always described it made the bar sound like some dust-encrusted watering hole for the local power plant. Why he drove thirty minutes every day to Lothal was a mystery to her. 

Number three: he was three months sober. Okadiah had told her that; he was Kanan’s sponsor. When Kanan first gave up drinking, Hera always made sure to add an extra two shots of espresso into his caf. It made him less cranky. 

Number four: he never read. After he graduated from community college, he stopped bringing any books to the shop. He didn’t even read daily news bulletins; Hera always had to explain world events to him. Of course, she never minded. She relished the opportunity to turn someone onto her personal causes. 

Number five: Kanan really,  _ really _ liked her. When he started coming into the shop regularly, he asked her out to dinner. When Hera turned him down the second time, he never brought it up again. Yet he always had  _ that  _ look in his eyes. It was like he could read her mind, picking up on every emotional cue, every minute detail of her actions. He knew her too well, yet he never lorded it over her. It didn’t bother her as much as it did in the beginning. After five months she had become used to it, and shortly after she started to appreciate it. 

“I know and I’ll be okay, but…” Hera trailed and glanced towards the front door. She could see the glow of a cargo van's headlights. “The delivery guy is here. I should let him in. You can make yourself a coffee if you want.” 

Kanan placed a cool hand on her arm as she moved past him to get the door, before turning to make a Spiran caf. 

As she went to hold the door open for the delivery guy, she could feel Kanan’s eyes on her. Always watching. He wanted to help the man unload the trunk. Kanan usually offered, and the worker invariably declined his help. 

Today, though, Kanan didn’t ask. He simply leaned against the counter and watched the guy dolly the big pink boxes indoors. No, he was watching  _ her.  _

“I’m fine. Really,” she halfheartedly reassured him as soon as the delivery man was out of earshot. “I’m just nervous about that new cafe down the street. One of those chains.” 

“Empire Brew. I know the one.” He poured some steamed bantha milk into his caf. “I was thinking of applying there.”

Hera took the mug from him and unwrapped a toothpick from the cup next to the register. She couldn’t help but notice how Kanan’s bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise as she started to draw in the top foam layer. It was cute when he did that. 

“I hope you’re joking. Otherwise, I might have to poison you one of these days.”

“I don’t know, Hera. They’ve got a pretty generous benefits package. Free drinks. Paid time off.” He leaned over the counter to whisper in his lowest and smoothest tone, “Medical and dental.”

She snorted. “That’s a deal with the devil right there.”

“I’ve made a few of those before.” Hera didn’t doubt that at all. “Are you making a design in my latte?”

“Obviously. And what happened to brand loyalty? Does our year together mean _ nothing _ to you, Kanan Jarrus?” 

“So you remembered! I was wondering when you would bring it up.” 

Of  _ course _ she remembered. He came in for the first time on her three-year anniversary of having Chopper. She never would forget the day she got the grumpy old cat, so obviously she would remember that Kanan came in that day, too. 

“Back to the Empire job.” She slid the cup across the counter back to him. The design was perfect: a wolf, just like the one in the dreams he had sometimes described to her. “Why would you ever join their league of corporate sleemos? You get free caf here all the time.” 

“I’m not seriously considering it. I would miss helping you unlock the front door too much.”

“ Well then, maybe I'll just hold off fixing that lock ,” she quipped with a smile as she watched him examine the latte Sometime while she was working on the wolf’s large snout, Kanan had let his ponytail out, allowing bits of brown hair to fall in front of his blue-green eyes. It was getting longer these days, finally grown out of the buzz cut that he had drunkenly cut a while back. It wasn’t nearly as shaggy as it was when they first met. Maybe it was Hera’s lack of experience with the subject, but it seemed that Kanan’s hair grew at supernatural speeds. 

Kanan made his way to the sofa, making sure not to spill his drink on the tiled floor. He hated messes. 

“How should we celebrate our first major milestone?” Hera asked, as she sat across from him in a heinous pea-green armchair. He was surprised to see how quickly she had relaxed, especially for a Monday morning, which were usually spent with her rushing around the shop, trying to get everything ready for the hangover rush and grumpy Lothal residents on their way to work. She hardly ever stood still, let alone sat down with him. She was still buzzing, of course, but he could sense Hera slowing down to a high hum as she curled up in the chair.

“The caf’s a good start. Does dinner sound any good?” he proposed, grinning. “I’ve been told that I’m an excellent cook.”

She smiled softly at him, turning a shade of green darker. It was absolutely lovely. “I’m sure that your Asteroid Belt patrons would agree, but I’m more of a breakfast person.”

Kanan was a bit surprised that she didn’t immediately turn him down. “That works. I make some wicked Iktotch toast,” he suggested. 

“Let’s do it then.”  _ Thank the Force _ , Kanan thought to himself. “Tonight? I have a small kitchen at home, or we could do it here—”

“I doubt that your place of work would make for a good first date,” he teased. She smiled again and looked down at her hands.  _ Was Hera blushing? She didn’t protest the terminology, that’s for sure. _ “Besides, I haven’t met the illustrious Chopper.” 

“He’ll be around.” There was an air of mischief in her melodic voice. In the past, she’d hited towards the cat’s particular breed of trouble, but he could only imagine what he was really like. 

The door chimes tinkled as an Ithorian walked in. Kanan broke his gaze towards Hera and stood up. “It’s Old Jho. I can get it,” he said, as she rustled in her chair. One of Kanan’s past employers, Jho ran a nearby diner, yet he always got his coffee at the Ghost. He always swore that his pourover machine was broken, but his breaktime runs to the coffee shop told another story. 

As Kanan fixed Jho’s extra-large black coffee, he could spot Hera in his peripheral view, looking at what he could only assume to be her datapad, one lek draped over her shoulder. She was a workaholic with no healthy sense of work/life balance, as she had told him one morning, back when they were just starting to get to know each other.  _ Hell, they were still in that phase _ , Kanan reminded himself.

Once Jho was out of the door, Hera walked up to the front of the register. “Sometimes, Kanan” she started, “I think you make more drinks here than I do.” 

“What can I say? The customers can’t resist quick hands and a pretty face.”

“I’m sure that your Asteroid Belt clientele would agree.”

“Most of my money comes from tips. Bachelorette parties love dive bars.”

“With you behind the counter? I don’t doubt it.” 

“I’m more than my looks, you know.”

“Obviously. Your charming personality makes you a complete package. Or maybe it’s self-delusion…”

“You love me.”

_ That  _ was new. “Maybe.”

Was it a platonic love? Mutual appreciation, at least. They both knew he was gorgeous. Hera joked with him about his numerous admirers, especially those who would approach her at the pick-up counter. She admired the women’s boldness. She was rarely given the luxury to openly flirt, let alone the opportunity. Was her banter with Kanan a flirtation? Were their casual touches a sign of attraction, or indications of comfort? 

Kanan sensed her silence and uncertainty. “I should head home,” he noted to break the silence. “It’s way past my bedtime.”    
“The bar’s closed on Monday,” she pointed out as he walked over to the couch to grab the coat he had thrown over the arm. 

“I have to get my beauty sleep for tonight. I don’t want to burn the eggs.” He briefly put a hand on her shoulder as he walked by her to the door.

“You know when we close, right?” Who was she kidding? He surely would remember that. “Meet me outside.”

“Whatever you say, captain,” he said with a salute. Before Hera knew it, Kanan Jarrus had disappeared into the cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first (published) SWR fic! I've been writing for these two for *years* now, but I finally felt ready to put something out there. Let me know what you think! Kudos, comments, and bookmarks welcome!
> 
> Special thanks to Ghoul1gan for the continued love and @wise-lizard on Tumblr for being the best sounding board a gal could ask for! 
> 
> xxx


	2. Chapter 2

Kanan woke up in a cold sweat, the sheets sticking to his body. _Five o’clock?_ He never had the chance to sleep in that late. Even on Mondays, when the bar was closed, Kanan would wake up in time for Old Jho’s late lunch crowd. Bad dreams made for excellent alarm clocks. 

He decided to take an extra-long and extra-hot shower before heading over to the Ghost Grind. His super never particularly cared how much water he used, anyway. _Perks of an attic “apartment”_ , Kanan supposed. Although, it might be worthwhile to get a better place to stay, seeing as Lothal might be his home for a while. A year was significant. For him, at least.

Maybe it had something to do with Hera or the steady income at The Asteroid Belt, but Kanan wasn’t planning on leaving for a bit. Most _definitely_ Hera. 

_Kriff_. 

She was probably waiting for him at the shop. Would she smile when he came in? Or would she be ticked off? Would wet hair and clean clothes make him seem “fashionably late”, or would tardiness only sully her view of him? 

It didn’t help that his car wouldn’t start. The beat-up van’s name, _Expedient_ , was a misnomer to the highest degree. The car kicked like a crippled fathier tied to a stake, frequently shut off in the middle of the road, and needed to be parked atop some bricks Kanan kept in the rear, but he wouldn’t trade it for any other vehicle on the market. Renaming it would seem like a betrayal. 

By the time Kanan pulled up to the Ghost, the lights were beginning to switch off for the evening. He could see the dark outline of Hera’s slender frame in the foggy front window, wearing that massive jacket again. He walked to the entryway, leaning backward on a wall next to the front door. It was all he could do not stay in the car and crank up the heat; he was freezing and it looked like it was going to rain. 

“Still open?” he asked in his smoothest voice as she opened up the front door. 

Hera smiled. “I didn’t think you’d show.” Was she pleasantly surprised or impressed that he fulfilled a basic commitment? “Nice hair, by the way. Very editorial.”

“I was going for a billboard model look.”

“Too pretty for a big ad. I could see you in a promotional holo for hair pomade, though.” 

Her hands were shaking as she locked the door. She was never cold; warm-blooded. Nerves, maybe? Kanan couldn’t keep his hopes up. He would be bound for disappointment. 

“Where’s your place, anyway?” He rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Should I start the car?”

“I doubt that’ll be necessary,” she chuckled as they rounded the building’s corner. “I’m in the area.”

 _If by “in the area”, she meant directly upstairs, then this woman must have either a horrible sense of distance or a great sense of humor,_ Kanan thought when Hera stopped at a tattered spiral staircase. As she started climbing in front of him, Kanan noticed the swing of her hips and the slight bounce of her lekku. He knew it wasn’t voluntary and surely not an invitation, but it was hard for him to ignore. Her warm smile at him when she opened the door was almost enough to make his heart soar. He almost didn’t see the fat orange cat that was sitting on his right foot-- _the entryway was wide enough for him to sit elsewhere, yet he_ had _to choose the least convenient spot for his distracted houseguest_ — until he started yelping at him. 

“Chop, don’t be rude.” Hera scooped the tabby up and tossed her keys into the dish she kept, not bothering to take off her coat. She clicked on some lamps, brightening the somewhat-messy and definitely cramped apartment. “You can take your jacket off if you want.”

“Hera, I can see my own breath,” Kanan drawled, putting his fingerless gloves next to the dish. 

“The heating unit doesn’t work.” 

“You haven’t fixed it? I’m shocked.”

She smiled at him as she walked to the kitchen and reached for a cabinet, stationed just above the sink. “As much as I try, Kanan, it always breaks down again. I think Chopper sabotages it out of spite.”

The aforementioned cat leaped from her arms to the raised counter, stalking back with the occasional yawp in Kanan’s direction. Hera hated when he paced, but gave up on trying to stop him long ago. 

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Kanan said. Chopper ducked under his upturned hand. 

“He doesn’t trust many strangers.” Hera put his tray of canned food on the ground, smiling, “It took him almost a year to eat near me.”

“He seems to trust you now,” Kanan pointed out, motioning to the cat, who was eagerly devouring the shredded porg. 

“You two will get there.” She leaned on the counter in front of him, keeping her eyes glued to his with her best impression of a coy smile. “Like I said, it takes time.”

Kanan’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know how long I’ll be around to find out.”

“Oh?” She stepped back. He hadn’t mentioned leaving Lothal in months. Maybe it was idiotic optimism, but Hera thought he was going to settle down in the area. 

“There are rumors of the power plant shutting down, which would pretty much decimate the Asteroid Belt’s demographic—”

“So you would lose your job.”

He looked away from her, brows furrowed. His expression bordered on guilt with a pinch of sheepishness. “Okadiah has talked about selling the bar for some time now, and my job would be compromised in the process.”

“If that happens—”

“Don’t say it, Hera—” he said, taking a step back. Kriffing hell, she _loved_ when Kanan said her name like that; gruff and warm like a piping hot cup of tarine tea. Yet in this particular instance, Kanan’s voice was tinged with bitterness, more like Javarican espresso.

“I’ll hire you. You know I would.”

“Don’t-”

“Of course that depends on how well you do tonight.” 

It was all Hera could do not to wink at him. After all, that was one of his key moves. Nonetheless, it was extremely satisfying to see Kanan get flustered at her lighter remark. 

“Tonight?”

“You owe me breakfast.”

 _Perfect_. The smile was back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked this chapter! the next one will definitely be longer.  
> kudos and comments welcome! let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The earnestness in her voice reminded him of just how unique his feelings were for her. He couldn’t laugh or smile, let alone crack some sort of teasing retort to return the flirtation. Hera wasn’t joking. She seriously believed in him.   
> If Hera wasn’t sitting across the table from him and her cat wasn’t sitting on his feet, Kanan might have kissed her then and there.

Kanan was pretty. Very,  _ very _ pretty. Hera almost envied his well-earned confidence in his appearance, which he maintained even while wearing the most hideous of any and all aprons in the Outer Rim. Left in the kitchen by a previous tenant, the spotted blue garment with its frilly lace and embroidered ewoks managed to suit Kanan to the highest degree. There was something admirable to Hera about his nonchalance about wearing it, and something else incredibly attractive about the view of him standing by the stove, removing the egg-dipped toast from the griddle. 

“Did you invite me over to cook for you or so that you could eye my keen fashion sense?” He asked, looking thoroughly pleased to have caught her lingering gaze. 

_ Good goddess.  _ Hera hoped Kanan didn’t see the color rush to her cheeks. Maybe she could keep her newfound domestic fantasy under wraps— or was this just a Kanan-specific phenomenon? Nevertheless, he would never let her live it down. 

“As I recall,” Hera cooly replied as she removed some flatware from a drawer, “you offered to make me breakfast. This is just a hospitality tax.”

Kanan placed a plate on the high counter, piled six slices high of battered, powdered, and syrup-drenched bread. His expression seemed self-satisfied and proud, yet carried no arrogance or egotism; he knew he had created a dish nothing short of masterful. As soon as Hera smelled the sweetness of the sugary toast, all of Kanan’s previous teasing and smugness was forgiven. In her book, nothing could compare to the combination of Chopper at her ankles, Iktotch toast on her tastebuds, and Kanan in her eyeline. 

Hera had impressively awful table manners. Maybe Kanan’s unorthodox upbringing had made his habits abnormally neat, but Hera’s style of eating was lightyears away from prim. She practically inhaled the food, as if she was a loth rat who had discovered the last scrap of pork at a picnic. As far as Kanan could tell, the plate in front of her was the only thing in Hera’s universe. With anyone else, Kanan might have been disturbed by these borderline-animalistic tendencies, but he knew Hera well enough to connect the dots of her messy relationship with food. He understood the basics: she had grown up during Ryloth’s economic and administrative collapse, with her community left with next to nothing by way of food or basic necessities. 

Suffice to say, Kanan respected Hera immensely. 

“You’re hired”, she all-but moaned as she swallowed the last scrap of food on her plate, looking completely satisfied from finishing the feast before her. Kanan had to stop himself from blushing with flattery at her obvious approval. 

“I don’t know if one meal can show the range of my cooking skills,” he chortled. 

“Kanan.” Hera looked directly at him without any hint of humor in her bright green eyes. “This is the best breakfast-adjacent food that anyone has ever made for me.” 

Kanan couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a barista.” 

“So you know I’m serious, then.”

“Hera, I can make other things—”   
“I don’t doubt your versatility.”

_ Shit _ . If those words were coming from Hera in any context beyond his preparation of a basic meal, Kanan would have perceived it as innuendo. Yet the earnestness in her voice reminded him of just how unique his feelings were for her. He couldn’t laugh or smile, let alone crack some sort of teasing retort to return the flirtation. Hera wasn’t joking. She seriously believed in him. 

If Hera wasn’t sitting across the table from him and her cat wasn’t sitting on his feet, Kanan might have kissed her then and there. 

As Kanan washed the dishes—he had  _ insisted _ that he clean—Hera (and Chopper, vigilant as ever) went to the fresher. When she looked in the mirror, Hera noticed the lightest flush in her cheeks.  _ Was it the food _ , she thought to herself,  _ or the look on his face when I remarked on it?  _ A splash of cold water couldn’t temper the heat under her skin, nor distract her body from the fuzzy feeling in her stomach. There was something in his gaze that set her off, some glimmer in those blue-green eyes. He’d had that expression before, but it never yielded this sort of effect. 

The odor emitting from Chopper’s litter box signaled to Hera that it was time for her to face the music; Kanan was waiting.

~~~~~~

The books on Hera’s shelves matched her perfectly: political theory, history, self-help for starting businesses, and guides on vehicle and machinery repair. She had paperback fiction with cracked and folding spines and tattered and numbered journals. Kanan was fascinated. 

“Why do you still read on paper?” he asked as Hera stepped next to him. “Datapads are much more efficient.”

“At least I read at all.” She lightly shoved his arm with her elbow with a smile that verged on impish. Her green eyes shimmered under the indirect lighting. 

“Remind me to give you my books from school. Seeing as you clearly  _ love _ hoarding outdated print media.”

“And  _ you _ clearly love getting unnecessary tickets. Nice parking job, by the way.” 

“I’m glad you appreciate my inventive spirit.” He turned to face Hera. The nearby lamps cast shadows on one side of her face, drawing out the yellow undertones on the other. The symmetry of her bone structure only amplified the effect.  _ Kriff _ . She was beautiful.

“That’s one way of putting it.” She crossed her arms, a slight smile on her face. Her expression was purely playful without any trace of skepticism or criticism. She was really enjoying this. “Your effort was admirable, though. I’ll give you that much, given the circumstances.”   
“Circumstances?” It was his turn to feign surprise. 

“Kanan,” she deadpanned.

“Hera.” He made sure to match her tone. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I—”

“You wound me!”

“I haven’t said anything, you nerf!” She swatted his forearm.  _ Did she do that subconsciously or on purpose? As a flirtation or as a harmless platonic gesture?  _

For some reason, Kanan just couldn’t read Hera. She was different than usual; loose, easygoing,  _ happy _ . He could count the number of times he had seen her this relaxed on one, mostly occuring when they had run into each other by chance. Hera loved the  _ Ghost _ , but Kanan knew that it was taxing on her. Seeing her completely at ease made Kanan at ease, too. 

“Just spit it out. The suspense is killing me.”

“It’s the van.”

“I would think that you of all people—”

“It’s junk.”

“You’re one to judge. About how many decades has that espresso machine seen?”

“Kanan, it’s  _ awful _ ,” Hera all-but pleaded as he leaned against the back of the couch. 

“Now, I’m no mechanic—”

“That’s obvious—”

“Don’t knock  _ Expedient _ !”

“When was the last time you were able to get the engine running on the first go?”

“Now you’re just being mean.” He made sure his face portrayed the perfectly proportioned mix of melodrama, offense, and exasperation.

“At least let me  _ do _ something!” She grabbed his hands, wringing and swinging them back and forth like a holodrama actress. 

“You called her garbage!”

“For now!” 

“Hera,” he cautioned. She was laughing, of course, but she was clearly incensed. 

“I know you don’t want me to do anything to the van, but if you just…”

Kanan always knew when to let Hera ramble. They both knew that they would both agree to some sort of unbalanced compromise, where one of them would complete some grand act of service or affection and only accept simple gratitude. As he only vaguely listened to her monologue about routine car maintenance and frugal repairs, all Kanan could think about was the fact that if he was to tug her arms even the slightest bit closer, he could just—

_ There. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks, per usual, to ghoul1gan for taking a look at this one. this chapter was hard to write, but i’m not sure why.  
> comments and kudos are highly appreciated!


End file.
